AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You fool!” Moash said. “You storming fool! What was that? What were you thinking?”
“Was incredible,” Rock said.
“You should be dead!” Sigzil said, though his normally stern face was split by a smile.
“Stormfather,” Moash added, pulling an arrow from Kaladin’s vest at the shoulder. “Look at these.”
Kaladin looked down, shocked to find a dozen arrow holes in the sides of his vest and shirt where he’d narrowly avoided being hit. Three arrows stuck from the leather.
“Stormblessed,” Skar said. “That’s all there is too it.”
Kaladin shrugged off their praise, his heart still pounding. He was numb. Amazed that he’d survived, cold from the Stormlight he’d consumed, exhausted as if he’d run a rigorous obstacle course. He looked to Teft, raising an eyebrow, nodding toward the pouch at his waist.
Teft shook his head. He’d watched; the Stormlight rising from Kaladin hadn’t been visible to those observing, not in the light of day. Still, the way Kaladin had dodged would have looked incredible, even without the obvious light. If there had been stories about him before, they would grow greatly following this.
He turned to look at the passing troops. As he did, he realized something. He still had to deal with Matal. “Fall into line, men,” he said.
They obeyed reluctantly, falling into place around him in a double rank. Ahead, Matal stood beside their bridge. He looked concerned, as well he should. Sadeas was riding up. Kaladin steeled himself, remembering how his previous victory—when they’d run with the bridge on its side—had been turned on its head. He hesitated, then hurried over toward the bridge where Sadeas was going to ride past Matal. Kaladin’s men followed.
Kaladin arrived as Matal bowed to Sadeas, who wore his glorious red Shardplate. Kaladin and the bridgemen bowed as well.
“Avarak Matal,” Sadeas said. He nodded toward Kaladin. “This man looks familiar.”
“He is the one from before, Brightlord,” Matal said, nervous. “The one who…”
“Ah yes,” Sadeas said. “The ‘miracle.’ And you sent him forward as a decoy like that? One would think that you would be hesitant to dare such measures.”
“I take full responsibility, Brightlord,” Matal said, putting the best face on it.
Sadeas regarded the battlefield. “Well, luckily for you, it worked. I suppose I’ll have to promote you now.” He shook his head. “Those savages practically ignored the assault force. All twenty bridges set, most with nary a casualty. It seems like a waste, somehow. Consider yourself commended. Most remarkable, the way that boy dodged…” He kicked his horse into motion, leaving Matal and the bridgemen behind.
It was the most backhanded promotion Kaladin had ever heard, but that would do. Kaladin smiled broadly as Matal turned to him, eyes enraged.
“You—” Matal sputtered. “You could have gotten me executed!”
“Instead I got you promoted,” Kaladin said, Bridge Four forming around him.
“I should see you strung up anyway.”
“It’s been tried,” Kaladin said. “Didn’t work. Besides, you know that from now on Sadeas is going to expect me to be out there distracting the archers. Good luck getting any other bridgeman to try that.”
Matal’s face grew red. He turned and stalked away to check on the other bridge crews. The two nearest—Bridge Seven and Bridge Eighteen—stood looking toward Kaladin and his team. All twenty bridges had been set? Hardly any casualties?
Stormfather, Kaladin thought. How many archers were firing at me?
“You did it, Kaladin!” Moash exclaimed. “You found the secret. We need to make this work. Expand it.”
“I’ll bet I could dodge those arrows, if that were all I was doing,” Skar said. “With enough armor…”
“We should have more than one,” Moash agreed. “Five or so, running around drawing the Parshendi attacks.”
“The bones,” Rock said, folding his arms. “This is what made it work. The Parshendi were so mad that they ignored bridge crew. If all five wear the bones of Parshendi…”
That made Kaladin consider something. He looked back, searching through the bridgemen. Where was Shen?
There. He was sitting on the rocks, distant, staring forward. Kaladin approached with the others. The parshman looked up at him, face a mask of pain, tears streaking his cheeks. He looked at Kaladin and shuddered visibly, turning away, closing his eyes.
“He sat down like that the moment he saw what you’d done, lad,” Teft said, rubbing his chin. “Might not be good for bridge runs anymore.”
Kaladin pulled the carapacetied helm off his head, then ran his fingers through his hair. The carapace stuck to his clothing stank faintly, even though he’d washed it off down below. “We’ll see,” Kaladin said, feeling a twist of guilt. Not nearly enough to overshadow the victory of protecting his men, but enough to dampen it, at least. “For now, there are still many bridge crews that got fired upon. You know what to do.”
The men nodded, trotting off to search for the wounded. Kaladin set one man to watch over Shen—he wasn’t sure what else to do with the parshman—and tried not to show his exhaustion as he put his sweaty, carapace-covered cap and vest in Lopen’s litter. He knelt down to go through his medical equipment, in case it was needed, and found that his hand was shaking and quivering. He pressed it down against the ground to still it, breathing in and out.
Cold, clammy skin, he thought. Nausea. Weakness. He was in shock.
“You all right, lad?” Teft asked, kneeling down beside Kaladin. He still wore a bandage on his arm from the wound he’d taken a few bridge runs back, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from carrying. Not when there were too few as it was.
“I’ll be fine,” Kaladin said, taking out a waterskin, holding it in a quivering hand. He could barely get the top off.
“You don’t look—”
“I’ll be fine,” Kaladin said again, drinking, then lowering the water. “What’s important is that the men are safe.”
“You going to do this every time. Whenever we go to battle?”
“Whatever keeps them safe.”
“You’re not immortal, Kaladin,” Teft said softly. “The Radiants, they could be killed, just like any man. Sooner or later, one of those arrows will find your neck instead of your shoulder.”
“The Stormlight heals.”
“The Stormlight helps your body heal. That’s different, I’m thinking.” Teft laid a hand on Kaladin’s shoulder. “We can’t lose you, lad. The men need you.”
“I’m not going to avoid putting myself in danger, Teft. And I’m not going to leave the men to face a storm of arrows if I can do something about it.”
“Well,” Teft said, “you are going to let a few of us go out there with you. The bridge can manage with twenty-five, if it has to. That leaves us a few extra, just like Rock said. And I’ll bet some of those wounded from the other crews we saved are well enough to begin helping carry. They won’t dare send them back to their own crews, not so long as Bridge Four is doing what you did today, and helping the whole assault work.”
